The Hunter and His Prize
by WhiteWings9
Summary: The Hunter lays claim to his prize. Bondage and Discipline. Mild gore. Smut. Wildchild!AU.


**The Hunter and His Prize**

Alfred had fallen quiet for a while now, but the minute he saw the Hunter pull out his knife he tensed up and made an involuntary noise that was somewhere between a snarl and a whimper. The Hunter ignored him as he ran the blade through a flame. Sometimes he drenched it in alcohol or boiling water, sometimes he simply run his lighter over it. Either way the cuts always stung, and Alfred had grown to become wary whenever the knife was unsheathed.

The Hunter shut off his lighter with a loud click and walked deliberately over to where Alfred was tethered. Alfred tried to crawl away, but he could not get far. He could not pull himself free from the chains even with his superhuman strength; the Hunter had made sure to use reinforced steel. He screamed, more in panic than in any real pain, as the Hunter wrenched him by his hair. It came out as a muffled cry around the bit between his teeth.

"You know by now to behave, my child," the Hunter cooed in that sweet, sweet voice Alfred had also grown to hate. "Keep still and it will hurt less."

The Hunter dragged him round by his arm and turned it so the crosses were displayed in the flickering light of the campfire. He studied each one carefully, prodding lightly at the healing scar tissues with the tip of his blade. Alfred's muscles tensed in anticipation. The blade eventually found an unmarred spot and pressed down. Slowly.

Alfred grunted as blood pricked from the cut. The Hunter was smiling. This was the best part of the hunt, he thought sometimes, and he liked to draw it out. Slowly, carefully, he carved into skin and flesh the symbol of a cross. Blood ran in thick rivulets where his knife had sliced in, and by the time he was done it had begun to dry, forming a thin crust on the surface. Alfred had broken out in a sweat and he remained tensed, head bowed and turned away. He was shivering slightly.

"And we're done," the Hunter said. He wiped the blade clean on Alfred's rags and slotted it back into its sheath.

Alfred turned slowly round to look at the new cross. The sliced flesh seemed to glare back at him in garish red. Without warning the Hunter poured vodka all over the wound, and Alfred howled from the pain.

"Oops," the Hunter giggled.

Alfred was inconsolable. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and he refused to face the Hunter even on repeated orders to turn back around. He cried himself into a sullen silence, and the Hunter had retured to the campfire to tend to the roasting rabbit.

"You will have to work for your dinner," the Hunter said, sensing Alfred's growing interest. The fire crackled and spat from the grease dripping from the rabbit, and Alfred did not care what it took, he was hungry and the pain in his arm was diminishing just enough for him to begin to forgive.

The Hunter cut himself a generous portion of the rabbit with the very same knife he had used to cut the cross into Alfred's arm. He ate it quickly and efficiently with knife and fingers, throwing clean bones into the fire with little mess on himself. He licked the grease from his fingers and washed it all down with a large swig of vodka.

Alfred's stomach let out a long, noisy growl in protest.

"Have you thought of how you will pay for your dinner yet?"

Alfred nodded, straining against his bonds. The Hunter's smile had worked its way back to his thin lips.

"And how will you pay for it, my pet?"

Tied and gagged as he was, Alfred could only mime the act and he did it in the lewdest, most shameless way he could, throwing all of himself into the act the way he knew would please the Hunter. He spread his knees, thrust his hips, threw his head back and made excited noises that was only partially acting. He had developed a sort of Pavlovian response to the prospect of sex; he was hardening visibly.

The Hunter did indeed look pleased. Just when he thought he was going to be rewarded with his meal, the Hunter said, "I think I will take my payment first."

Alfred froze. They were deviating from routine.

The Hunter came over and stood in front of him, studying him over with that cold smile that never seem to reach his eyes. Finally, he reached down to undo the bit and pulled it out of Alfred's mouth. Alfred worked his jaw and snapped his teeth a couple of times.

"This is the first time you've tasted a man, I believe?" the Hunter said. He was unbuckling his belt. Alfred stared up at him, head cocked to the side, puzzled. The Hunter's smile widened.

"I don't want to feel any teeth. If I do, _I will pull every last one from your mouth and make you swallow them_."

Once he realised what the Hunter wanted from him, it was too late to protest. The Hunter had coaxed his mouth open and slipped in his half-erect cock; he gagged as he swallowed the impressive appendage and felt panic rising, but the Hunter shushed him and stroked his matted hair in a soothing matter.

"Now suck," the Hunter ordered.

And Alfred sucked. Ever mindful of the warning the Hunter gave about teeth, he hollowed in his cheeks and worked along the length with his lips, slurping and suckling, a little uncertain really of what he should be doing.

"That's it!" the Hunter encouraged on a gasp when he gave an experimental swirl of his tongue.

He was nothing if not creative, after all.

He could not tell how long he suckled on the Hunter's cock, but his jaw soon began to ache and his enthusiasm flagged. In the end the Hunter pulled out of his mouth with a wet pop, shaking his head.

"Not bad on your first try, but I'm getting impatient."

Alfred let out a startled squawk as the Hunter pushed him onto his back. Cottoning on to the Hunter's motive, he spread his legs wide and eagerly took in the Hunter's length, letting out a small keening sound of want. The Hunter made short work of it, thrusting only a few times before he came, emptying himself fully into Alfred with a quiet, sated groan.

He was allowed to sit by the fire at the Hunter's feet and tuck into the rest of the rabbit as the Hunter drank from his flask. The Hunter had also wrapped his new cut in clean linen with a cool, soothing poultice to take the edge off the stinging pain. All was as well as could be between Hunter and prize.


End file.
